


An Tiaracht

by Flyting, MapleLantern



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Drowning, Ghosts, Haunting, M/M, Short Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 13:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13705020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyting/pseuds/Flyting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleLantern/pseuds/MapleLantern
Summary: No one lives on that island anymore. They say it drives you mad. They say it feels lonely, melancholy, and that you find yourself standing on the cliff edge at strange times in the night, staring down at the rocks.There’s a ginger cat, people say. You catch glimpses of her, just out of the corner of your eye, a flash of tail or whisker. She’s a fairy, they say, or a sprite in disguise - she won’t hurt you, but you shouldn’t try to look directly at her.The veil is thin on that island, people say. The mist can reveal the other side of what you see, and if you aren’t careful you could be lost to the wrong side.





	An Tiaracht

**PROLOGUE**

 

People said that drowning was a peaceful way to die. That the world floated away and you slipped into a calm sleep, warm hands reaching out for you to draw you gently from the cold water and into the next world.

Ben didn’t see it.

They look like they have suffered, the times he had seen people pulled from the water. Arms reaching desperately for something to hold, fingers clawed to snatch at anything that might save them, struggling for breath and only adding to the saltwater enveloping them as they cried and screamed without air.

Leia had cried when he’d told her this, six years old and perched on the kitchen counter, as he listened to her and his uncle discussing whether Han’s coffin should be open or closed at the wake.

Ben would rather take a bullet to the head.

*

Tearaght Island, accessible from the mainland only during good weather and facing out into the North Atlantic like a sentry, was a better home for Ben than the town of Kilrush had ever been. Despite being surrounded by the sea on all sides - the jagged rocks ensure that if one day he ever slipped and fell, he would break his neck on impact rather than be left to drown in the freezing water - it kept other people away.

The only company were the petrels, puffins and manx that nested there, along with the ginger cat who liked to hunt them when she had finished off the last forthcoming mouse. She had come with the lighthouse as a fixture, left behind by the men who had built the lighthouse in what Ben grudgingly supposed was a thoughtful gesture. She didn’t bother Ben She kept to herself and he to himself. Ben had never been one to keep company, be it one person or six. He had never felt more content than when he had taken the job of primary lighthouse keeper on the island.

Ben had cultivated his own vegetable garden which, along with the favourable fishing and plentiful shellfish, ensured that he rarely had to travel to the mainland. The lighthouse authority, the Coimisinéirí Soilse na hÉireann, would occasionally force him to spend a week away from the island under threat of suspending his pay, which he would spend with his mother. He would stay with Leia while stocking up on supplies that couldn’t be cultivated - matches, paraffin, sugar - while she would tell him what seemed like years worth of town gossip that he had missed in the months he had been gone, sitting at the worn kitchen table in her stone cottage kitchen. Uncle Chewie would always drop in from the harbour in to say hello, and sometimes Uncle Luke would visit from the neighbouring parish. Ben would listen quietly, and during the week collect his pay from the local office of the Coimisinéirí Soilse na hÉireann, the Commissioners of the Irish Lights. He would then hand it over to Leia, he didn’t need it, before he shouldered his supplies and left again.

But these times were rare, and quickly became tense, so Ben was glad to spend most of his time on Tearaght Island, where his only grace was in his solitude.


End file.
